


Window

by somewriter



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston- Fandom
Genre: Actor Tom Hiddleston, Consensual Sex, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kitchen Sex, Mention of Tom Hiddleston baking, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Tom Hiddleston's hands, Tom calls reader darling obvi, Tom is hungry, Tom wears a suit, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, because it's fucking hot, reader calls him Thomas at one point, slight D/S vibes but minor imo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 05:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6552280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somewriter/pseuds/somewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I couldn't get this idea out of my head. So I had to write it. Hope you enjoy it! x</p>
            </blockquote>





	Window

He comes home late from work, stumbling through the darkened hallway as he kicks his shoes off and dumps his bag down on the ground.

 

‘Darling?’ he calls out.

 

‘Kitchen!’ you call back.

 

He pads into the kitchen as he removes his blazer and is already undoing his tie when he finds you there, finishing off some spinach and fennel soup.

 

‘Evening, my love,’ you turn to kiss him briefly. ‘Soup?’ He nods eagerly and once you’ve put the bowl in front of him he appears to inhale it within seconds, along with a couple of slices of bread and cheese.

 

You giggle at his impressive speed. ‘Hungry, were you?’

 

‘Yes,’ he says grinning, licking his lips and standing up to face you. ‘Still hungry, actually.’

 

‘There’s the cobbler you made yesterday, we could warm it up for dessert if you like…’

 

You can barely finish your sentence before you notice Tom using his forefinger to draw light circles on your left hip which sets your centre alight with a painfully wanting throb immediately.

 

‘No, darling, I think I’m hungry for something else,’ he growls, before pressing his lips to yours.

 

Gentle at first and then demanding entrance to your mouth, he snakes his tongue against yours and kisses you deeply, nipping at your lips every now and then. He pushes you up against the fridge and starts kissing down your neck towards the neckline of your soft, slightly see-through nightie. Once there he mouths down to your clothed breasts, leaving wet kisses all over them. The wet fabric against your nipples makes them pebble and harden, and he repeatedly nips at them through the cloth barrier, which adds a delicious layer of friction to the stimulation of this sensitive area. You look down at him as he sucks at your breasts, and you moan as your frustration starts to mount. You can feel the hot trickle of wet between your legs and the burning sensation at the pit of your belly, and you grab his hips to grind into yours for a modicum of relief. Both you and Tom grunt with pleasure when you finally do find this relief as you grind against each other, you wet and him hard.

 

Guiding him to a sit in kitchen chair, you straddle him and drape your arms around his shoulders before leaning in to kiss him again. You echo his earlier movements by kissing down his neck and inhaling his scent, which is impossibly clean and fresh with a hint of minty aftershave. Finding the spot of sensitive skin along his collarbone that makes him go crazy, you lightly suckle there while he moans in appreciation, tightening his grip on your hips. His hands push your nightie up your thighs and he grabs your arse roughly, grinding you down onto his clothed dick. Rubbing against him, you can feel his erection growing harder and harder. You move to unbuckle his belt and unzip his zipper, but he stops you.

 

‘Not yet,’ he says, grabbing your wrists and pulling them away from him.

 

No matter what, no matter how hard and wanting he might be, the man always wants to make you come _at least_ once before fucking you with his cock.

 

‘Turn around,’ he demands.

 

Your belly does a little backflip at the slightly stern tone of his command and you turn around on his lap, your back now resting against his chest. He helps you pull your underwear and nightie off and throws them aside. He rubs his wide hands across the slightly rounded plane of your belly and then down your thighs, making you shiver with anticipation. Each brush of his hands sends tiny electric jolts of pleasure through you and your skin prickles with the heat of wanting him and you whimper as the sensations wash through you. Taking his time – what feels like a ridiculously long time – he unbuttons the sleeves of his white shirt, rolling each sleeve up to the elbow. You wriggle in his lap and kiss his neck softly, waiting, wanting.

 

‘Thomas, please,’ you whine, arching your back against him.

 

Finally, ready to set about his work with his sleeves rolled up, he uses his middle and index fingers to brush back your curls and then begins massaging your clit with an infernally, deliciously slow and soft touch. He dips his fingers a little lower, just above your opening, where you are incredibly wet, bringing that wetness back up to your clit. The hot, slick lubrication on his fingers intensifies the sensation as he resumes drawing circles there.

 

‘Oh my god,’ you breathe as you automatically grind into his hand, your whole body relishing the direct contact with your most sensitive spot. He’s breathing almost as heavily as you are in your ear, kissing along the lobe and burying his face in your hair.

 

‘Darling, look at yourself,’ he whispers after a minute or two.

 

You crane your neck to look up at him, confused by his directions. He simply nods his head, looking straight ahead and you follow his gaze til you’re met with your reflection. In the black of night, the large glass sliding doors you’re facing have become a reflective surface. Startled by the image of yourself, you stop grinding up into his hand for a moment.

Your eyes meet as you look at each other in the mirrored image before he kisses you down the side of your neck. He sucks and nips at the skin there while his hands leave your sex and wander up to your breasts, alternately brushing his thumbs over your nipples and across your ribcage. You love watching his perfect, long fingers working your body, his mouth on your neck, his eyes intensely staring into yours. And strangely, you also love watching every surface of your body start to tremble in response to his ministrations. He doesn’t take his eyes off you and you feel his gaze roaming across your body, appreciating every quivering muscle and every stuttering in breath.

 

‘Look how fucking wet you are, Y/N,’ he growls as he trails kisses down your neck to your collarbone.

 

You look at his fingers in the window’s reflection, as they wander from your breasts and glide through your glistening folds down towards your opening. God, you are so wet that you’re dripping onto the tops of your thighs and onto his trousers. He barely presses the tips of two fingers inside you before dragging them back up to your clit, which has hardened and become impossibly sensitive. He circles his wet fingers over it, pressing down hard every now and then, watching your reflection for your response to the pressure and pace. The muscles on the insides of your thighs and your lower belly quiver as you let out a strangled cry, hooking your feet behind his calves so that you are totally open to his touch and gaze. You grip the base of the chair with your hands. You let your head fall back onto his shoulder and scrunch your eyes shut in pleasure.

 

‘No, don’t you dare look away,’ he warns, removing his fingers from you entirely.

 

You look back at yourself, your face flushed with wanting, your legs stretched wide for him. And you look back at him, his clothed body pressed against yours. Fuck. He returns his fingers to your centre, using his other hand to tease your breasts one at a time.

 

You both groan, watching his middle finger disappear inside you. He works it in and out of you gently and slowly, making sure that the heel of his palm rubs your clit all the while. He adds another finger and you can’t help but clench your walls around those long, large fingers when he knocks your clit with his palm.

 

‘Fuuuuck,’ he moans deeply when you take his fingers in deeper by grinding up into his hand and gripping him tightly with your vaginal muscles. Grinding up and down in rhythm with his fingers that work in and out of you, you watch yourself lifting your hips into his dripping hand. You watch his other hand, splayed on one of your thighs, gripping onto your flesh.

 

‘You like that, don’t you? Look at your greedy cunt swallowing my fingers up.’

 

Fuck, you love it when he talks like this. The timbre of his voice is hoarse, wrecked, and wanting, full of desire for you. You let out a sound somewhere between a grunt and a squeal, the sensations too strong to even manage a ‘yes.’

 

‘I said, “you like that, don’t you?”’ he demands a little harder as he adds a third finger, stretching you wide.

 

‘God, yes Tom, yes I like it. I like what you’re doing to me. Please don’t stop.’

 

As his fingers move in and out of you with small wet squelches, he makes his contact with your clit even firmer and more persistent.

 

‘Yes, yes, oh shit, _there_ ’ you babble in between gasps as he finds your most explosively sensitive spot.

 

‘Can’t wait for it to be my cock inside you, darling,’ he grumbles, briefly rubbing his clothed erection against your backside.

 

‘Yes I want you inside me, please,’ you beg, snaking your hands behind you to reach for his zipper.

 

‘No,’ he grunts. ‘Not yet.’

 

You let out a whine but are quickly incredibly distracted when he curls his fingers inside you slightly to reach and rub a spot of sensitive nerves there, all the while attending to your clit with expert precision.

 

Your legs start to shake and tremble violently and you start to breathe harder, faster. He can feel you’re close. One of his arms grips your hip to keep you still, while he rubs his now saturated palm against your hard, slick clit and keeps working his fingers in and out of you. He rubs harder, and then harder still, and you finally come howling against his cheek, your legs slamming shut and your back arching away from his chest as the burning orgasm tears through your sex and lower belly. Your walls flutter and undulate around his fingers, which continue to work your pussy very gently, very slowly now as you come down from your orgasm. Your body slumps languorously against him as every muscle relaxes, softens, releases. Through the haze and floating sensation of post-orgasm bliss, you can vaguely hear him telling you how beautiful you are, how fucking hot and wet you are for him, how he can’t wait to bury himself deep inside your cunt. You watch him then withdraw his wet and wrinkled fingers from inside you, strings of your come dripping from them. He draws two of his fingers into his mouth, never taking his eyes off you in the reflected surface as you continue to try to catch your breath. He groans as he sucks his fingers, tasting the sweet tang of you and you sigh with contentment, turning to kiss his mouth.

 

‘Your turn,’ you whisper against his lips, before shifting in his lap to face him. 


End file.
